* * * * * The following lines are worthy of being treasured in every heart. We put them on record for our myriad of readers. BEN ADHEM’S DREAM. Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight of his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An Angel writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, “What writest thou?” The vision raised his head, And in a voice made all of sweet accord, Answered, “the names of those who love the Lord!” “And is mine one?” Ben Adhem asked. “Nay, not so,” Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low But cheerly still. “I pray thee, then, Write me as one who loves his fellow men.” The Angel wrote, and vanished. The next night He came again, with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blest; And lo! Ben Adhem’s led the rest. * * * * * THE MUSIC OF THE RICH. [Illustration: Left pane, TENOR, a gentleman singing, Right pane, BARITONE, a gentleman singing.] THE MUSIC OF THE POOR. [Illustration: men, women and children playing music and singing, with hats on the ground to collect monetary contributions.] * * * * * The Shepherd’s Song. [Illustation: A young woman stands holding a shepherd’s crook and a young man’s hand, with other people and sheep in the background.] COMPOSED FOR THE PIANO FORTE BY JOHN ROLAND. Presented by LEE & WALKER, 188 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, _Publishers and Importers of Music and Musical Instruments._ [Illustration: musical score] Shepherds from your sleep awake, Morning opes her golden eye, Rosy beams in beauty break, Over ocean, earth and sky! Over ocean, earth and sky! [Illustration: musical score] ’Tis fair nature’s sweetest hour, In her loveliest garb she reigns; Wake, and in her sylvan bow’r, Tune her praise in joyous strains. ’Tis fair nature’s sweetest hour, In her loveliest garb she reigns; Wake, and in her sylvan bow’r, Tune her praise in joyous strains. 2. See! the lark with early note, Soars above the flow’ry lea, As he pours from warbling throat, Songs of cheerful melody. Why should we, to cots confined, Wile this beauteous hour away? Love may loose, but not unbind, Charms that shepherds find in day. 3.